Hi Dizzy Dee
At time like this I revert to poetry and in this case, from W H Auden. Some people may remember it from he film four weddings and a funeral. I don't remember it from the film,. although I did see it, but from the funeral of the fifteen year old son of friends. Why poetry - my words are just too poor to express feeling, I need those of a master wordsmith.
Sailor
Funeral Blues
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
W.H. Auden
